


Overwatch Oneshots | On Hold

by Finfangillian



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Gen, I'm calling the Junkertown Queen Grace, It will be better later I promise, Light and Heavy, M/M, Nobody likes Thomas Ferdinand, Sorry some of them are so short, also sorry I'm not so good at writing the Junkers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finfangillian/pseuds/Finfangillian
Summary: A big ol collection of one oneshots for every single pairing I think is cute in Overwatch. (Some are gonna be more platonic than romantic)!CURRENT CHAPTERS BEING REWRITTEN, WILL BE UPDATED SOON!The current chapters will just be moved to the end of chapter notes once they've been rewritten





	1. Genji and Widowmaker

Amelie did not need to be reminded that she could never have a normal life again. She had known her life would be forever altered the day that she met Gerard, long before Talon ever had a say in it. She accepted the strange the day she got married, she accepted the secrecy, the danger, the risk, that came with her late husband. She never once regretted marrying him, even when Talon came for her. 

Thoughts of Gerard were what got her through her captivity. Every time they hit her, she would think of his smile. Every time they demanded information, she remembered his laugh. Even when they began the “process”, reminding herself of Gerards embrace kept her steadfast…

But she could only resist so much.  
~  
Genji did not need to be reminded that his life would never be the same again. He had known from the time he was a young child that he would never have a “normal” life, long before he even knew what his family’s business truly was. He never accepted it. He tried to live normally, he insisted on going to public school, he joined clubs, went out with his friends, but eventually the outcome was always the same. They would find out who his family was, and get scared away. 

Nobody ever stayed longer than a couple of months. The only truly permanent fixture in Genji’s life was Hanzo, his beloved brother. The one person he would trust with everything, who he could always rely on, turn to for help, the one person he never, ever thought would abandon him…

But loyalty is a fragile thing.  
~  
Every time they were together they were reminded that their lives were anything but normal. 

“This is dangerous,” Genji murmured, as he did every time he saw her in private. 

Amelie didn’t respond aloud, not yet. She just watched him. It was a rare occasion that she was able to see his face, and she wanted to savour it. She studied him, taking in every little detail from his pale and scarred skin, to his dark eyes that seemed to have a perpetual faint green glow about them. Amelie loved looking at him, seeing such beauty almost made her feel joy again.

“I know,” she finally replied after a long silence, the same reply she always gave. 

 

Now it was Genji’s turn to silently regard her. He would have never understanded how she could so easily stare right in the face of danger in his youth, but now he knew the feeling quite well, almost intimately. While he would never know what it was like to be emotionless, but he was very familiar with blunt fearlessness. 

He couldn’t imagine someone as beautiful, someone as morbidly elegant as she was. Even with her pale purple skin, her deep gold eyes, and her thin, perpetually chapped lips, she was stunning.

Genji softly smiled. Amelie did not return the gesture, she never did. He had never seen her smile, not even in private. She always had the same emotionless expression. At night, when he couldn’t sleep, he would imagine her smile, thinking about how beautiful it would be if he was ever fortunate enough to see it. He had seen one picture of her smiling, it was from her wedding to Gerard. Her smile was beautiful, but the woman in the picture was gone. Sometimes he wondered if she remembered how to smile, or if Talon had taken that from her as well. 

He leaned closer and gently pressed his lips to hers.

Everytime they kissed, they were reminded that their lives were anything but normal. 

Unlike her own, Genji’s lips were warm. Warmer than was usual, even for someone with a regular heartbeat. She never wondered why. 

“You’re warm,” she murmured when they broke apart. Despite she could scarcely feel the warmth of his lips or his skin, she had gotten used to saying it to him. Both of them had a few almost customary phrases they uttered during their short visits. 

He gave her another gentle smile, and laid back on the soft grass of the hill. A moment later she settled down next to him, resting her head beside his shoulder. 

They quietly watched the sky, full of stars with not a cloud in sight. Neither of them spoke for a long while, content with the silent company.

“I love you,” Genji finally said. He wasn’t expecting her to say it back, he knew she couldn’t feel such things. If he was being completely honest, he wasn’t expecting her to answer at all. At least not verbally. Fortunately, Genji liked surprises. 

“I know,” Amelie mumbled against the metal in place of his neck. 

Her unexpected reply brought a smile to his face and he pressed a kiss to her head. He briefly noted that she smelled like lilac, as she always did. He was glad she had picked such a pleasant scent to wear.  
“I would like to think that I love you too,” she added after another few moments of silence. 

He remembered the last time someone had told him they loved him. It had been Hanzo, the very same night that his brother had tried to murder him. It had just made Hanzo’s betrayal even more painful. 

Amelie was not Hanzo, and Genji had never been as sure of anything as he was the he could trust her when she said it. 

Afterall, he had sorely missed hearing it. 

They spent the rest of the night in near complete silence. They didn’t need to speak to know exactly what the other was thinking anyway.  
~  
Everytime they were together, they were reminded that their lives would never be normal again. Everytime, they were reminded of their failures, their losses, their doubts. But all of that was worth it. Because everytime they were together they were also reminded of one other very important thing.

“We’re still alive,” he murmured. 

“We’re still alive.”


	2. Junkrat and Roadhog

His friends name was Jamison Fawkes, and sometimes Mako felt guilty. 

Mako remembered very well the first day that he had met him, Jaime was just 7 years old. He had been running around with a few other children, and ran straight into Mako. He was already too headstrong for his own good, he didn’t show even a tiny smidge of fear when Mako looked down at him, nor when he practically picked the kid up by the scruff of his neck. 

If he was being honest, Jaime didn’t look that different now that he was grown. He still had untamable blond hair, he was still oddly pale, despite so much time spent in the sun, hell, he even made the exact same expressions. 

It had been 18 years since that day, and it seemed like everything but Mako had changed. 

He hardly recognized the world around him now.

Mako remembered the day that his group had launched their attack. He remembered briefly thinking of Jaime, he remembered daring to wonder what would become of him and all the other children in Australia.   
The thought had left his mind almost as quickly as it had come to him. He hadn’t really cared then, about anything, about anyone. 

He was selfish.

Now… Now he had Jaime. Now he had a real reason to do things, beyond the desire to destroy. Now he had something to protect. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted to protect something. 

He couldn't remember the last time he had loved something. 

Sometimes Mako wondered what Jaime would be like if he had grown up normally, if he had been able to have a real childhood. He wondered what Jaime would be like if he had been allowed to keep running and playing with other kids, if he had learned to read and speak properly as a young child, if he had had the privilege of living in a real town with a real family, if he had been raised by his mother.

Sometimes when they were together in the workshop and he was working on his little creations, or when he fell asleep on Mako’s shoulder, or even when they were planning a job, Mako would try to picture Jaime if he had a normal life. He wondered what Jaime would look like with regular, non ripped clothes, with washed and groomed hair, and with clean skin. It was a uncomfortable picture. 

Sometimes Mako would try to picture Jaime with his leg and arm still intact, without his multitude of scars and burn marks, without clumps of his hair missing… The picture Mako had in his head didn’t even look like Jaime. 

No… It looked like Jamison Fawkes would have, it didn’t look like Junkrat. Jamison Fawkes had been dead for eighteen years. 

His friend’s name is Junkrat, and sometimes Mako feels guilty.


	3. Junkrat and the Junkertown Queen

Grace was good at a lot of things. She was smart, she was a more than formidable fighter, she was even a half decent diplomat, but she had her fair share of shortcomings too. One that particularly annoyed her, was her inability to maintain a healthy relationship. She tried, she really did, but something always drove her partners away. Most of their reasons were easy for Grace to guess, normally it was fear (either of her brothers or her temper), or anger that they had to share her attention with the rest of Junkertown. She would have given almost anything for somebody to stay, she was just about ready to give up on love.

Then she met Jamison. 

At first she wasn’t sure about him. He hung around with Mako Rutledge, and she had never liked Mako, he was no good. Her initial assumption about Jamison was the he was either just as bad as Mako, or too stupid to hang around anybody else, but slowly, she warmed up to him.   
~  
“Gracie!” Junkrat called as he skipped into their room, holding a crudely wrapped box, partially hidden behind his back. “I brought you a present!” 

Normally Grace would kick someone for calling her ‘Gracie’, but she was willing to make an exception for Jamie.

“What is is?” The Queen asked, looking up at him from where she lay on their bed. 

“It’s a surprise!” He chimed as he sat, cross legged, beside her. “You’re gonna love it!” He had a wide, goofy grin on his face, which wasn’t unusual for him. Even when everyone and everything else around him was somber and grim, Junkrat could always find something to smile and laugh about. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Give it to me,” Grace said as she sat up, holding her hands out. He waited for her to close her eyes before putting the box in her hands.

Jamie giggled as he watched her open it. He had gathered together scraps of different papers, with all matters of colours and patterns, and taped them all together in order to wrap the gift. 

Once Grace was past the paper, she opened the box. 

Inside was a necklace made from roughly shaped thin wires, adorned with all kinds of pink, red, and orange ewels. It was clear that he had made it himself, from the way it was put together. Grace guessed it must have taken him about a month and some change to find the gems, at least. Such rare and beautiful stones were hard to come by in Junkertown. 

“Jamie, it’s beautiful!” She said, taking it out of the tattered box and immediately putting it on. “Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, a smile on her face almost wide enough to match his own. 

“Glad you like it sugar bunny.” Suddenly he became very serious. “If Mako asks, I aggressively borrowed all of those fancy shmancy rocks from Thomas Ferdinand and no one else.”

“Aggressively borrowed?” Grace tossed her head back and laughed, knowing perfectly well that he meant he stole then all, probably some from Mako. “I won't tell him anything,” she promised as the threw an arm around his shoulders.

Jamie didn't say anything in response, he just giggled with the most adorably malicious grin that she had ever seen. He could be a handful sometimes, but she wouldn't have him any other way.


	4. Roadhog and the Junkertown Queen

It had been a particularly long day for the Queen of Junkertown, but that wasn’t unusual. As of late it seemed like the demands of Junkertown’s citizens were becoming more and more unreasonable, they were becoming harder to satisfy. 

By the time her day was finally over, and she was on her way to her room, all she wanted was to have a drink, and go to sleep. 

When she opened the door, she was greeted with a strangely adorable sight. Mako was sprawled in their bed, clutching his small Pachimari doll to his chest with one large hand. The sight brought a small smile to her face, as she sat on the side of their bed. 

Mako, surprisingly enough, was a very light sleeper. He sleepily opened his eyes, looking over at Grace. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. A few years ago, she would have expected more of a greeting, but in the time they had spent together, Grace had come to accept the fact that Mako would never be a stunning conversationalist. 

“Hey,” she replied. 

“Long day?” 

Grace nodded.

“Mm.”

“You?”

Mako shrugged. Normally he would at least respond with a grunt, or a ‘good’, it was only on those incredibly exhausting days that he would give silent replies. 

“Damn.” Grace sighed. She laid on her back at his side and yawned. “Running this town is starting to be more trouble than it’s worth,” she grumbled.

Mako frowned, and for a second Grace thought she saw a brief flash of concern cross his face. He gently set his Pachimari doll on her chest, and put his arm around her shoulders. She looked at the doll and rested her hands on it. It was old, well loved even, but despite its age, it was still incredibly soft.

“Thanks Mako,” she mumbled, resting her head on his bicep. 

“Everybody else would do a bad job of it,” he offered, “running the town, I mean.” 

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Mako may never be very talkative, but somehow he always knew what to say to brighten her mood.

“Yeah, they would,” she agreed. With a light chuckle she added; “Could you imagine Tommy Ferdinand trying to run things? Oh God, we’d have a second apocalypse on our hands.” 

Mako gave a small grin and a snorted laugh in response. 

“Jamie,” he said. 

“Oh my god.” Grace took a moment to try and imagine Junkrat running Junkertown. It was a terrifying and hilarious thought. “He’d make explosive currency, and then threaten everybody that if they didn’t pay him rent, he’d banish them from the city.”

The mental image of Junkrat as King earned a proper laugh from both of them. It would be hysterical, after all, to watch Jamie galavanting around in a crown - they were both sure he would insist on wearing one - and inevitably an overly decorative velvet cape.

Grace sat up, and the Pachimari fell into her hands. She didn’t know exactly how long Mako had had it, but she knew it was at least 13 years old. 

Mako sat up beside her. “Drink?” he asked. 

“Yeah, gin.” 

He quietly poured two cups of Grace’s finest gin, then handed one to her. 

She took it and held it up. “To us,” she dramatically announced, “the only half-sane people in this bloody town.” 

Mako nodded - she hadn’t expected him to add anything - and gently tapped the rim of his cup against hers. 

Both of them finished their drinks in one gulp. That was part of why they didn’t drink the gin often. That, and the fact that is was nearly impossible to find half decent gin anywhere in, or within 500 miles of Junkertown. 

Believe her, Grace had looked. 

Mako sat down at her side again, picking his pachimari back up and holding it with one large hand. 

Grace leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and took a slow deep breath. She felt Mako drape his arm around her again, and she smiled. She relaxed against him and slowly drifted off to sleep.


	5. Widowmaker and Maximilien

When I was a girl, I was afraid of the dark. 

It hid things, and I was terrified of it finally coming to get me…

Then years later, it did. 

I remember that night like it was only yesterday.

I was afraid at first, angry even. I remember the terror I felt the first time I heard the voice of the dark. That is not his name though, his name is Maximilien.

He was more terrifying than I could have ever imagined as a child. Of course, that was when fear was still a stranger to me, I didn’t know then how deep it could run.

“Mrs. Lacroix.” 

His voice had sent chills down my spine. At first, I believed it was truly the dark speaking to me.

How stupid I was then. 

~

I am not afraid of the dark anymore. 

“Amelie, my dear,” his voice distracted me. 

I set my pistol down and turned to him.   
“Come with me please.” His voice was slightly robotic, and almost as emotionless and mine. It was nice. 

I silently followed him out of the shooting range, down the dimly lit hallways, and into our bedroom. On our bed, there was the most beautiful ball gown I had ever seen. The bodice was covered with deep purple lace, and tiny, barely noticeable pieces of amethyst. The skirt was also a deep, rich purple, made of what looked like satin. It had a short train on it, making it look even more elegant. I would need at least five inch heels to wear it.

Beside the dress were several pieces of jewellery, all equally exquisite. There was a necklace with a delicate silver chain and a framed amethyst pendant cut in the shape of a crescent moon, framed with a thin border of silver. Three silver bangle bracelets were laid neatly beside the necklace, no extra embellishments adorned them. They were simple and it suited them. Beside the bracelets was a set of earrings, silver hooks held beautifully refined amethysts with the faintest distinction of flowers carved into the silver. Finally, there was a rather extravagant ring, a thick silver band that bore yet another amethyst, shaped like a square, in the centre of a silver lotus. 

“What is all of this for,” I asked. I felt Max put his hand on my waist.

“We’re going to a party.” He pulled me up against his side and wrapped his arm all the way around me. 

“Operation?” I asked, I was sure I sounded agitated, though I could not tell. I had not been notified of my involvement in any upcoming missions and I have never liked surprises, even if they come with pretty dresses. 

“Not necessarily..” Sometimes I wished Maximilien had a human face. It would make it much easier to tell what he was thinking, what he was feeling. “It’s a private business matter, not a Talon job.”

“Oh,” That was okay. “Alright.”

“9:30 this evening, Venice.” I did not hate Venice. 

“Alright.”

“We leave in three hours, get ready.” He gently ran his thumb over my cheek and left. I supposed that was his substitute for kisses, the same way that his eyes glowing a lighter red was his substitute for smiling. It was endearing, and I didn’t mind when he touched me. Normally, when people touch me, I shoot them. Maximilien was one of the few people I didn’t want to shoot. 

I started getting ready for the gala. 

I stripped my clothes off and got into the shower. It took at least twenty minutes just to wash my hair. That was the one drawbacks of having it so long, but I didn’t mind. The only time I cut it shorter was in the summer. Even with my partial immunity to physical sensations, it was unbearable if I kept it long in the heat.

I let the water wash over my body, barely even feeling the warmth. Temperature was one of the few things I could occasionally still feel. However dull the feeling may be. I did my best to savour it when I could. 

As I lathered my lavender scented soap on my unnaturally cold skin, I hummed quietly. The words to the song played softly in my head;

Alouette, gentille alouette  
Alouette, je te plumerai 

Maximilien liked it when I hummed. Sometimes when I was busy I would hum a tune or sing quietly out of habit. He always said I had a pretty voice. 

Je te plumerai la tête  
Je te plumerai la tête

I rinsed the soap off my skin, taking my time and enjoying the faint feeling of the water washing over me. It was relaxing.

Et la tete! Et la tete!  
Alouette! Alouette!

I turned the knob and the water cut off, and with it, the tune in my head. My hair stuck to my back, almost reaching my thighs. Briefly I tried to remember what it felt like when my hair stuck to my skin, but the memory had faded long ago. 

~

I stared at the elegant clothing laid out on my bed. It had been a long time since I had had reason to wear something so lovely. Normally I just wore whatever Talon mandated mandated, which generally ended up being espionage armour. 

The dress fit me perfectly, and I briefly wondered if Maximilien had commissioned it to be made specially for me. It wouldn’t have surprised me to find out that he had done that, it wouldn’t be the first time that he had given me an expensive and extravagant gift either.   
Maximilien had developed a habit of spoiling me with fancy presents whenever he pleased, which was quite often. 

Just as I picked up the earings, there was a curt knock at my door.

“Oui.” 

Maximilien stepped into the room, the door sliding shut behind him. For a moment he didn’t move, he just stood by the entrance examining me. My hair was down, reaching easily to my mid thigh and only partially dry, the bottom hem of the dress was pooled on the floor - it was about four inches too long, clearly made to be worn with high heels - and I didn’t have any jewellery or makeup on. 

The usually dim red glow of his eyes shined a little brighter when he looked at me. It made me feel in a way I hadn’t felt since I lost Gerard. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he approached me. I smiled. I do not smile very often. 

“Merci,” I replied. He gently cupped my jaw and ran his thumb over my cheek. 

“Let’s go, Venice awaits.” Max said after a moment. He gave me his arm and we started towards the hanger. 

I decided I rather liked life with Maximilien, it was quite nice.


End file.
